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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2061341-Poetic-Nonsense-Stories-1
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by Johann Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Mystery · #2061341
I am not sure the new words can be translated. The words come out of me like a flow.
If you are having trouble visualising, reading them out loud helps.

1

I remember how I first lost my virginity, querelling in the arius dark. The sunlight shone threw the window. A quering bellow flacked. In the sunlight, a doomship approached. Beer sploverred down. I was alone. The moon raked out. A sunship approached. The wind bellowed for. A noon day pissage approached. Nothing contendered the will. A flute perrited the dawn. I was alone. And yet I was. Lonely; I was. Alone in the derious dark, sciving through the night, wizzuming in the eriunt dark. Foreless I bellow out whine, mazing the erius dark. The wind ploverred down. And all the moon-shook awoke.

2

What am I going to write about? What am I going to write about? The rain lashed down. Blozing, the snow covered all. We were awake, in the moon-sake as the wind blathered our soul. A chooking float around, lizus in the gariun day. Chomping, the horse mooks on, ageless in the dariun dark. And still my fingers play. Lazers fling, the morn arrive, trumpeters blow on. And all awhile, my passage lays, in the court of the crimson fring.

3

I remember fucking you, in the effortless new dawn. Sbmashing sandwiches in the beach, a sand cirriting our toes. The sonjious warn beach, where the souls play, the fat warm, around the shoreline like whales. Seals, they clay. I remember, the wind hissled down, smoking like verbant delight. The smoke koolged down. It makes me happy, the beach does as we chink the wine together, bayless in the ariunt hut. Dum di-dee dum zher, par ra-moo-lus ar, kim-go voolus am-bear, be-lair voolus shom-bi-air. And still we clingle on.
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